


Call of the Sea

by SilverWing15



Series: I'm Writing Fanfiction About Block Men God Help Me [18]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: All aboard the Good Ship SBI, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I just think they're neat your honor, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Prince Ranboo, This turned out to have a lot of Wilbur and Ranboo content, Wilbur that isn't the way to help people, check chapters for individual warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:54:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28920159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverWing15/pseuds/SilverWing15
Summary: Sometimes he stares out at the sea. The thing that cages him, but also the thing that might, one day, set him free. If he lives that long.There’s a large window in the great library, facing out to the bay. He sits in one of the ancient wingback chairs and watches the ships come into the harbor. Their white sails, the brilliant rainbow of flags that they bear. Lands that he’s never seen.Lands that he’s unlikely to see.OR: Ranboo is the prince of Enderland, but Dream has taken over his throne, his only option is to escape to the sea that has called him all his life.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Wilbur Soot
Series: I'm Writing Fanfiction About Block Men God Help Me [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057121
Comments: 92
Kudos: 592
Collections: Completed stories I've read, Ranboo Is Best Boi





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> here we go fam, another fic with The Boy and SBI, this is how I'm coping, sue me.  
> As always, this is prewritten so updates should be regular as long as I don't forget lmao. I'm shit at replying to comments but I adore each and every one. Enjoy the fic!

Sometimes he stares out at the sea. The thing that cages him, but also the thing that might, one day, set him free. If he lives that long. 

There’s a large window in the great library, facing out to the bay. He sits in one of the ancient wingback chairs and watches the ships come into the harbor. Their white sails, the brilliant rainbow of flags that they bear. Lands that he’s never seen. 

Lands that he’s unlikely to see. 

“My Prince,” Punz says, Ranboo flinches. He isn’t surprised that the man is there, but he doesn’t have good memories of Punz’s voice. “Dream requests you meet him in his office.” 

The office, right. The office isn’t too bad, it could be worse. It could be the yard, or--gods forbid--the throne room. Nothing good ever happens when Dream ‘requests’ he meet him, but the throne room is the worst. 

“Of course,” he says aloud, because this isn’t really a request and he can’t actually refuse it. He stands, setting the book he wasn’t reading aside and Punz guides him out of the library. Well, he doesn’t really guide him so much as escort him, the way a guard does with a prisoner. 

Because that is what Ranboo is, in the end. He is called prince, and he lives in the palace, but in the end it is only a very well appointed cell. To hold him until Dream finally thinks of a way to get rid of him that won’t arouse suspicion. 

It wasn’t always like this, living as a prisoner in what should be his home. Once Eret had been his regent, once he’d had something like a father. A guiding hand to teach him how to rule for when he came of age. 

Then the SMP rebellion had happened. It was a distant island, Ranboo had barely heard of it before Dream had shown up on their shores with tales of the Empire being on the move once again. 

He’d wormed his way into the court, and somehow in a few years, it was like he’d been there all along. The Smiling Knight, a survivor of a terrible tragedy, come to warn them and give them his wisdom. 

Then Dream had come forth with his accusations of treason, and the court had believed him. Eret was exiled, despite Ranboo’s own protests. 

He was only a prince, not yet king, and that muzzled him in front of the court, Dream was free to present his evidence, free to tear away everything Ranboo knew. The Smiling Knight was installed as Ranboo’s new regent, naturally. Since he had such a discerning eye and keen mind. 

Ranboo once had lessons in all sorts of things, history, swordplay, diplomacy, etiquette. Now he has nothing but the library and the window. 

_ “He will kill you,”  _ Eret had warned him as they packed away what little they were allowed to bring with them into exile,  _ “be careful my dear boy. Watch always for his plans, and when you have the chance, promise me you’ll run. _ ” 

Young and foolish, Ranboo had declared that he would never run. Never abandon the seat of his house, his right to the throne. It was his right, his duty, to lead. 

He isn’t so naive now. 

He opens the door to Dream’s office, (which was once Eret’s office, which is rightfully his office) and Dream looks up. He’s wearing the mask, he’s always wearing the mask. To hide the scars he’d earned fleeing from SMP, which was now L’manberg. “Ranboo,” he says, friendly, charming, kind, “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.” 

He didn’t, he knows he didn’t because he is the one who has kept Ranboo from anything that might be considered important. 

“Nothing could be more important than meeting with you,” Ranboo says. He knows how to handle Dream in this quasi-friendly mood. He wants his ego stroked, he wants to see how obedient Ranboo is, how harmless. 

Dream smiles, confident, relaxed. A good sign. “Aw,” he coos, like they both don’t know that Ranboo is only saying it to keep him happy, “well, I’m afraid that there is no big news, I just wanted to check on you.” 

Ranboo doesn’t believe it for a second, but he smiles, “thank you, my lord, I am touched that your thoughts come to me in the midst of all your important work.” 

“But of course,” Dream demurs, “you are precious to me. More precious than any jewel on the crown.” 

“It is kind of you to say.” 

Dream turns back to his papers, but Ranboo doesn’t try leaving. They both know that this isn’t done yet, not until Dream dismisses him. He waits patiently for a minute, and then begins debating if Dream wants him to fidget, to be impatient. He studies the line of the man’s shoulders, relaxed, his hand lays flat on the table, fingers not tapping. 

He waits, silent and still. 

At the door, Punz clears his throat, as if he is reminding Dream of something they all know he hasn’t forgotten. They’ve been playing this game for five years, a dance they all know too well to misstep. 

“Oh,” Dream says, as if he’s just remembered, “your birthday is coming up, isn’t it my prince?” 

Cold dread seizes his heart. It isn’t  _ the _ birthday, the one where he comes of age, that is still three years away. He still has three years. “Yes, my lord. In a few weeks.” 

Dream smiles soft and fond, like he’s proud, “my how quickly it sneaks up on us, hm?” 

It hasn’t snuck up on any of them. They have all been carefully counting down the days, ticking them over one by one. Waiting, all of them waiting. 

He still has three years more to wait. 

Gods please tell him he still has three years. 

“Punz,” Dream says, motioning as if Ranboo isn’t perfectly aware of who Punz is. “Has suggested that we do something special this year.” 

His heart beats too fast, his hands want to shake. He doesn’t let them, he keeps himself still and steady as a rock. The corner of Dream’s mouth twitches. He sees the fear anyway. 

“You’re too kind,” Ranboo says, his voice barely trembles. “You don’t need to trouble yourself my lord.” 

“Nonsense,” Dream says, waving an idle hand, “its not every day a man turns sixteen. I know you prefer the quiet, but surely you won’t scorn a chance to get out of the palace.” 

Out? He could get out? He hasn’t seen the outside of the walls since Eret was exiled. This could be his chance, this could be his  _ only _ chance. 

“My lord?” he asks, keeping every last drop of emotion out of his tone. He can’t give even a hint of his plans away. Dream likely already knows, but he won’t act on it until Ranboo gives him the rope to hang him with. That is the way the game is played. It wouldn’t be any fun for Dream if it were played any other way. 

Dream hums, “Punz suggested we go for a hunt.” 

His heart freezes. His breath catches in his lungs. He thinks of his parents, long dead on another hunting trip. 

He doesn’t have three years. 

He has weeks. 

And then Dream will kill him. 

“What might we be hunting?” his voice asks, still playing the game. 

“Oh I’m sure we’ll find something,” Dream says, “it will be good to go for a ride even if our prey were to get away, wouldn’t you agree? The fresh sea air on your face, the pounding of hooves beneath you. There’s nothing quite like a good hunt, even if your quarry escapes.” 

That is it, then, that is the game. 

He swallows, and Dream’s smile grows. 

This  _ is _ his one chance to escape, Dream is allowing it. Dream is allowing him the hope of getting away but they both know he won’t. There is no better hunter in the land than Dream. No quarry escapes him. 

But he likes to let them try, likes to give himself little rules, to make it fair. 

To make it fun. 

“I look forward to it,” Ranboo says. 

“I’m sure you do,” Dream replies. “Now I’m afraid I have important work to return to, I’m sure you do as well.” 

Ranboo nods to him and turns on his heel. Punz shadows him as he returns to the library, picks up the book with numb fingers, and resumes staring out the great window. 

He stares out at the sea, the thing that keeps him caged. The thing that might once have set him free. But he isn’t going to live that long. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ranboo makes his escape

Weeks are not years, but when they’re all you have, you learn to make them count. Ranboo hasn’t tried to escape the palace in years, he learned his lesson then, and he learned it well. Escaping was against the rules. Dream did not suffer cheaters. 

But cheaters certainly suffered. 

He has obeyed the rules oh so carefully ever since then. Day in, day out. Each and every unwritten rule followed to the letter. It has kept him safe, but it will no longer. 

Now is the time for breaking rules. Now is the time for his escape. 

He makes his preparations. His belt has coins sewn into it so they will not clink together. A dagger, his most precious possession. His sword is long gone, and he hasn’t had a day of training since Eret left, but he isn’t unarmed. There is that at least. 

He just needs to get to the docks, to get passage on a ship. 

The sea, nothing but miles and miles of water, his doom, his salvation. 

A week before his birthday, he puts his plan into action. He slips out of his room in the dead of night, when all of the palace is asleep. He travels through ancient passageways, places only known to the rightful heir of the castle. 

And to Dream, because there is nothing secret from Dream. 

He hasn’t set guards in the passageways though, not yet. 

He’s gotten complacent. Ranboo allows himself the barest hint of a smile. Even if he fails, even if he dies, he will have this one small victory to his name. He outmatched Dream this one time. 

He emerges out into the castle courtyard, near the gate. And here is where his victory ends. Because it isn’t just anyone guarding the gate, it is George and Sapnap. Before even Punz, they are chief in Dream’s trust. They alone came with him from SMP, now L’manberg. 

They are already looking at him, hands idly on the hilts of their swords. They know he is here, they knew he was coming, but they haven’t raised the alarm. 

“Please,” Ranboo says softly, “you know what he intends for me.” 

George and Sapnap exchange a silent look. It is too dark to see their expressions. 

“I won’t ever return,” Ranboo promises, “you’ll never see or hear from me again, I swear it. I don’t want to die.” 

“We can’t,” Sapnap says, but there is real regret in his voice. 

“Sapnap,” George argues. 

“Please,” Ranboo says again, there is nothing else he can say. Nothing he can offer them, nothing he can do but lay himself at their feet. Place his life in their mercy. 

“We didn’t see you,” Sapnap says, turning away. 

“Thank you,” Ranboo breathes, his voice is shaky,  _ he _ is shaky. “Thank you.” 

“Shut up and go,” George says harshly, but they are letting him go. They are letting him  _ live _ . 

He doesn’t intend to waste the chance. 

He darts past them, into the night.

*** 

The thing about escaping in the middle of the night is that it means he’s kind of stuck until dawn. There are no ships entering or leaving port, there are no shops open, there are only a few drunkards wandering aimlessly. 

He keeps moving through the city regardless. He has to be at the docks first thing in the morning, he has to be on the first ship out, or Dream will find him. He follows the sound of waves lapping against wood. Through the alleys and winding streets, and then suddenly, he is there. 

The sea stretches out before him, wide and wild and forbidden. 

He pads to the end of the dock and falls to his knees. He can smell the salt on the air, familiar and foreign at the same time. He has looked out to the sea his entire life, but never has he touched it. 

He reaches his hand into the dark waters, hoping, praying. 

The waves crest under his hand, brushing salt water over his skin. For a moment it is bliss, cool and soft as silk. Then it turns hot and sharp, biting into his hand as if the sea has turned teeth on him. 

He jerks his hand out of the water with a gasp, clutching his hand close to his chest. 

The curse, despite everything, remains. The last gift his parents gave him. 

He is the prince of an island nation, the sea calls to him, but he can never answer it.

He can embrace the sea but once, and then she will never let him go. He clenches his fist, drying the lingering traces of salt water from his skin. 

It isn’t long until dawn. He just has to wait. 

*** 

He is woken by a boot to the stomach. 

It isn’t an unfamiliar sensation, not in the least. 

He scrambles away before he even opens his eyes, expecting Punz to be there, expecting Dream to be watching him with that unknowable expression on his face. He expects the stone walls of the castle around him, caging him in. 

Instead he nearly slips off the edge of the dock. He catches himself on his hands and one knee, his right foot dips into the sea. He tugs it frantically out, staring up at the face of the man who kicked him. 

Ranboo doesn’t recognize him, he’s not a guard, he’s not a courtier. He’s just a sailor. 

“Find some other place to sleep off your drink,” he grumbles. 

“I--sorry.” Ranboo stutters, he braces for another hit, but the man turns away with a scoff. 

“Move it lad,” another voice shouts, he turns to find himself in the path of a man with a large crate on one shoulder. He ducks to the side just in time to avoid getting run over. The city is waking around him, shouts, clatters, a thousand souls all going about their days. 

He needs to find a ship. 

He pulls his cloak tighter around himself and walks up to the first man he sees sitting still. The man is working at something, he’s got a massive rope in his lap and he seems to be braiding new strands into it. Ranboo hovers near him, it feels wrong to interrupt him, but surely he has to. 

“Excuse me?” 

The man gives no sign he’s heard him. 

“Excuse me sir?” Ranboo asks a bit louder. “I’m looking for passage on a ship?” 

The man continues to ignore him. He finishes with the rope and hoists it onto his shoulder, Ranboo has to scramble out of his way as he walks by. Well. That was--

That was…

Well. 

He needs to get passage. He  _ has _ to get out of the city. He looks around, trying to find someone else to ask. 

“So,” a boy’s voice comes from behind his shoulder, Ranboo whips around. His hand rests on his dagger under his cloak. There is a boy behind him, perched on a stack of crates, he grins at Ranboo. It isn’t like Dream’s smile, all cold, calculating satisfaction. The boy is wild and mischievous. “Looking for passage are you?” 

Ranboo takes half a step away. Everything about this boy is saying  _ I am dangerous _ , but he is small. Shorter than Ranboo, wiry--though not thin--he doesn’t even look to have a weapon. “I might be,” Ranboo says. 

“You won’t get it pestering a deaf guy,” the boy says, leaning faux casually on the crate behind him. 

Ranboo glances back to the man he’d been trying to ask, he is speaking with someone through hand gestures. “Oh.” 

“Besides, you don’t want to go anywhere the  _ Sparkler _ is going. If you want passage you should come with us!” 

Ranboo narrows his eyes at the boy, he’s watching him like a hawk with a mouse in its sights. 

“You have a ship?” 

The blond boy snorts, “well its not  _ mine _ , but the one I’m from. Going to L’manberg port. Plenty of other stops on the way there.” 

L’manberg Dream’s own homeland that he is now barred from. Surely, there more than anywhere he would be out of Dream’s reach. “L’manberg you say?” 

The boy  _ grins _ , all teeth. Ranboo swallows, its too much like Dream’s smile when Ranboo’s made a mistake. 

“You know what, I think I’ll--” he begins, turning to glance around, maybe there’s another sailor somewhere he can ask. He freezes, words caught in his throat. There is a crown-guard speaking to the port master. 

“We’re leaving soon,” the boy says, Ranboo looks back to him and finds the boy staring at the guard. “They never search our ship, the captain’s got..friends here.” 

The portmaster is saying something, pointing to the place where Ranboo was sleeping last night.  _ No _ . 

He looks between the boy and the guard, who is coming closer, looking carefully in all the shadowed nooks of the docks. His heart races in his chest. The boy is watching him with a confident smile playing at his lips, like he knows Ranboo doesn’t have any other choice. 

“Fine.” Ranboo says, “take me to your captain.” 

“Good choice, bruv.” the blond boy says. “Come on.” 

He hops off of the crates and lands on his feet with catlike grace, “try to keep up,” he laughs, and he sets off through the crowd. He darts and ducks through the crowd like he’s been doing it his entire life, he barely gets a few shouts directed at him. 

Ranboo, on the other hand, crashes through the flow like a bull. He nearly runs face-first into a man who looks like he could break him in half with a pinkie and then stumbles back into another. They give him annoyed growls as he ducks past them with a stuttered apology. He barely avoids knocking over a thinner man with a stack of long wooden planks on his shoulder. 

Shouts and jeers, and even a few stones follow after him as he tries desperately to keep the boy in his sights. Finally, they are at the gangplank of a large ship, her pure white sails folded, rigging swaying slightly in the breeze. 

_ The Crown _ , her side declares. 

The boy is laughing at him, “you actually made it. Not too bad.” 

Ranboo frowns at him, trying to figure out the game. There has to be something more going on here, he’s not an idiot. Some random kid saves him from the crown-guard? Offers him passage to L’manberg? Its too perfect, too easy. 

It is too easy. 

Is this Dream’s doing? Is this kid working with him? Is he about to come down the gangplank of that ship, telling Ranboo how disappointed he is in him? Ranboo’s breath comes faster at the thought. He backs a step away, preparing to fling himself into the crowd. 

It won’t work, of course, he won’t escape. Dream wouldn’t let that happen, he was a fool to think that he’d even managed to get this far. Dream knows, Dream has planned all of this, the way he plans everything. No detail escapes him, there is nothing unpredictable, not to him. George and Sapnap were probably told to let him go, to give him a headstart. 

Dream will come down that gangplank and the hunt will begin. 

A figure stands at the top of the plank, the rising sun at his back. Ranboo squints, raising a hand to shield his eyes. “Tommy,” the man says, it isn’t Dream’s voice. 

_ It isn’t Dream. _

“Tommy what are you doing? We were meant to leave an hour ago, you’re holding us all up, mate.” 

Tommy tugs on his arm, Ranboo flinches, yanking his hand away immediately. His heart is pounding in his chest, his mind refuses to believe that this is real, that this isn’t a set up. Dream is up there, he has to be. “Come  _ on _ ,” the boy--Tommy?--says, sounding annoyed. “Don’t tell me you’re chickening out  _ now _ .” 

“What?” Ranboo asks, his voice is barely a croak. 

“You’ve made it this far, don’t you want to see the world a bit? Come on. Its just  _ Phil _ , if you look sad and hang out around him he’ll be mother henning you like he does the rest of us.” 

That doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense. This can’t be real, this can’t be  _ working. _ He can’t have really made it out. That’s not possible. He can’t beat Dream. Not at this game, not at any game. 

Tommy takes his wrist and Ranboo allows himself to be led up the gangplank like an animal. Letting himself be led to slaughter, Dream will be up there. He will be waiting. He’s just...He’s just doing something else, he’s going to trap Ranboo on the ship. Maybe throw him overboard. 

There is a man on the deck, standing with hands on hips. He is wearing green, his hair is blond, but he is nothing like Dream. Dream is collected, nothing about him out of place, not even a single hair would dare disobey him. 

This man is windblown, he’s got a scruff on his face from where he hasn’t shaved well enough, his coat is a deep forest green and there are no small number of patches. Some of the buttons don’t match the rest. 

He’s staring at Ranboo with ocean blue eyes, not green. His face is twisted into an expression of confusion, “Tommy,” he says, “what the hell is this kid doing on my ship?” 

“We’re taking him with us!” Tommy declares, “he’s paying for passage to L’manberg.” 

The man stares at Ranboo, and Ranboo stares back. Dream still hasn’t appeared, surely he’ll come out of hiding soon. 

“We are not a passenger ship,” the man says. 

“Please,” Ranboo says, his voice is hoarse, desperate. He needs to reign himself in. Needs to get control of himself. He can’t let them see how terrified he is. “I have money, sir. I just need to get to the next port.” 

The man looks him up and down, “traveling a bit light, are we?” 

“Its an emergency.” Ranboo says, “a matter of life and death.” 

The man’s eyes narrow and Ranboo has to stop himself from taking another step back. He’s already the furthest away from the man--the captain? He must be--as he can be and still be within polite conversation distance. His heart pounds in his chest, his hands are shaking and he twists them into his cloak, hoping to hide them. 

“To the next port, then,” the captain says. “Tommy, find him a bunk.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Tommy leads him below deck, to a room with hammocks and seachests lining the walls. “You’re gonna have to sleep here with everyone else,” he says, watching Ranboo like he’s waiting for him to back out. Like Ranboo could find another ship to grant him passage before Dream’s guards find him. “The hammocks aren’t great,” Tommy presses a little more, “but they don’t fall,  _ usually _ . Gets a bit wild during storms though.” 

Ranboo nods, though he pales at the thought of running into a storm. What if the ship goes down? What if he is cast into the waves?

Then he will die, like the rest of the crew, he supposes. But at least he will have tried to break free. At least he will have died to the sea which has called him all his life, instead of at Dream’s hands. 

Tommy is watching him, but there is a bit of a pout to his face now, like he was expecting Ranboo to do something. Complain, perhaps. Ranboo has slept in worse places than this, though. Dream isn’t here, and that makes this a far safer place than anywhere else he has lain his head in the past five years. 

Tommy sighs, “you can sleep in that one I guess,” he says, gesturing to a hammock, “next to me ‘n Tubbo.” 

“Thanks,” Ranboo says, setting his bag with its meager supplies on the floor. “About payment?” 

“You’ll have to talk to Phil, just give him whatever you’ve got, it doesn’t really matter.” 

Ranboo frowns, “I thought that passage on a ship was rather expensive.” 

Tommy waves a lazy hand through the air, flopping into a hammock beside Ranboo’s, “I dunno, I’m not a captain.” He closes his eyes, hands folded behind his head like he fully intends to fall asleep there. Ranboo shuffles his feet. He needs to go speak to the captain, get his passage figured out. But it feels wrong to just  _ leave _ . Dream has taught him well how rude that is. 

Tommy cracks open an eye, “you just gonna stand there the whole journey?” 

“No.” Ranboo says, even though he might have. He takes the question as the best dismissal he’s going to get. He makes his way back to the top deck, though he does lose his way twice, he makes it back out into the sun. They haven’t left port yet, but they are clearly preparing to. 

Ranboo pulls his cloak tighter around himself, resisting the urge to pull the hood up. That would be far more suspicious than simply keeping his face turned away from the pier and the crown guard that still patrols it. 

The captain is standing near his cabin, speaking to another man while the crew works around them. Ranboo hesitates just outside of earshot, waiting for the conversation to end. His hands fiddle with a loose thread on the hem of his cloak. 

Finally, the man the captain is speaking to glances over at him, his brown eyes look Ranboo up and down. Ranboo freezes, whoever this man is, there’s an intimidating air around him. Something in his eyes is too perceptive, too knowing. Then the man smiles, casual and affable, his curly hair falling in his eyes, his body relaxing. He’s got a friendly smile, like the world is a joke he’s inviting you in on. 

“Well,” he says, stepping past the captain, “you must be the last minute guest dad was telling me about. Nice to meet you.” He sticks out a hand, sharp and fast, Ranboo barely keeps himself from flinching. 

“You too,” he says, taking the hand and letting the man shake it enthusiastically. His grip is too tight, like Punz restraining him. 

“Wilbur,” the man says, “and I’m sure you know Phil.” 

“Ranboo,” he says, thankfully it is common enough for children to be named after the royal family. There could be a hundred Ranboos on this dock. “And um. Yes, we spoke.”

Phil gives him a tight smile, “did you need something lad? We’re shoving off soon, not really a place for guests on deck right now.” 

Ranboo winces, his shoulders drawing in. “Sorry, sir.” he says, fighting to keep his voice steady. Its a gentle rebuke, but Dream’s rebukes always started out gentle. Dream isn’t here though, Dream hasn’t found him. “I just wanted to see you about payment?” 

“Ah, yes, come into my cabin then.” 

Ranboo’s heart skips a beat. It has never ended well for him, going into the seat of a man’s authority alone. Phil has his cabin, and Dream had his office. This isn’t Dream though, Dream isn’t here, he’s getting away from Dream. 

He hopes. 

“Will, you have the deck,” Phil says curtly, turning to disappear into the cabin.

“Aye,” Wilbur replies, but he makes no move to get out of Ranboo’s way. He just stands, staring at Ranboo as if daring him to go past. Punz had liked to play this game.

Ranboo braces himself for a parting hit or harsh word and slips past Wilbur. Nothing comes, he simply emerges out of Wilbur’s arm reach with shoulders hunched around his ears. He throws a glance back to the man, he’s watching Ranboo with that too perceptive, calculating look on his face. It disappears again into a tight smile and then Wilbur turns to the crew, issuing orders like nothing had happened.

Ranboo stares at him for a second more. Wilbur scares him, maybe even more than Phil, his eyes are too piercing, too knowing. He opens the cabin door and is dully surprised to find that Dream isn’t waiting for him here. As their departure grows more imminent, he begins to think that perhaps he really has managed to slip Dream’s noose. 

He doesn’t allow himself that arrogance though, not until they’re out of port, not until he’s as far away from Dream as the sea can take him. 

Phil is rummaging with some papers at a large oak desk. He glances up at Ranboo and motions him closer, “passage isn’t going to be much mate,” he says. “We’re not a passenger ship and I’ll be honest, we’re not hurting for profit.” he laughs a little, like he’s told a joke. “Tommy does this all the time, a few silver to cover your food should do us, we’ll leave you at the next port, or you can come further.” 

Ranboo hesitantly walks deeper into the room, the room is neat, but not obsessively so, the way Dream kept his office. His hand strays to the back of his belt and he fishes out a few coins, “just the next port will be fine,” he says. He wants to go all the way to L’manberg, but he doesn’t like the way Wilbur looked at him, like already knew all of Ranboo’s secrets. He can’t stay here, he has to keep going, keep running. 

Phil holds out his hand for the coins and Ranboo freezes midway through putting them on his desk. Phil is watching him blandly, but there is something in the line of his shoulders, something in the angle of his head. This isn’t a casual motion, this is a test, a game. One Ranboo doesn’t know how to play. 

He has to get off this ship. 

He takes another step forward and lets the coins fall into Phil’s palm. He keeps his face blank, his body language neutral, uncaring. He cannot afford to show fear, that is what always heralds the loss of these games. 

Phil barely glances at the coins, letting them fall to his desk with a clatter that rings too loud in the silence of the room. Ranboo nearly flinches, but Phil’s stare keeps him frozen in place. “You could go farther you know,” he says, almost gently. “This is enough to take you pretty far from here.” 

“Its fine,” Ranboo says. 

“The sea’s a big place, plenty of room to run if that’s what you’re doing.” 

Ranboo grit his teeth. Fear prickles up his spine, he half expects to feel Punz’s gaze on the back of his neck. Waiting for his final misstep, waiting for Dream’s nod. The one that lets him loose, like a dog from its leash. 

“I’m just,” his voice is thin, weak. No, he can’t be weak. He swallows, takes a deep breath, “I’ll be fine.” 

“If you say so,” Phil says. “You should probably go belowdecks. We’ll be out of here soon.” 

“Right,” Ranboo says, and he slips out of the cabin. 


	4. Chapter 4

They’re out of the port. He’s out of Dream’s reach. 

He won. 

He  _ won _ . 

He’s  _ free _ . 

Ranboo stands at a porthole, watching the island that was his how fall away behind them. How furious was Dream, he wonders, when he woke up to find Ranboo gone? When his guards failed to bring him back? 

A hysterical giggle wants to rise out of his throat but he forces it back down. He did it, he escaped, he won. Dream, for the first time in years, has  _ lost _ . 

He doesn’t know what he’ll do when they make it to the next port, find a new ship and keep running, he supposes. Like Phil said, the ocean is a big place, plenty of room to run. He’ll find passage on another ship, one with a less perceptive crew. He’ll go to L’manberg, where Dream will never be able to find him again. 

If he could even look for him. Everyone knows that the Empire hovers over L’manberg like a dragon with its hatchling. Dream was probably some lord of SMP before the war, even  _ if _ the Empire ever actually spoke to another nation--which they don’t and likely never will--they wouldn’t go looking for someone Dream asked them to. He was their enemy. 

Ranboo doesn’t know what he’s going to do with his life, but at least he’ll get the chance to live it. 

*** 

He had packed quickly, and brought only the necessities, and so Ranboo finds that he is  _ extremely bored _ . He doesn’t even have a journal to write in, much less anything to read. He doesn’t even have anything to do with his hands. 

It will be weeks before they reach El Rapids, he can’t just sit belowdecks twiddling his thumbs. Ranboo paces around the bunk room for a while, trying to figure out what he will do. The captain didn’t seem to like him being on the top deck when the crew was heaving off, but surely it would be okay to go up there now, right? 

He climbs the stairs, he thinks that maybe the rocking of the ship should throw him off, that he should be seasick or something. He isn’t, it feels as natural as breathing to walk with the rocking of the boat. 

The sun is starting to head for the horizon, its probably about three or four in the afternoon. Usually he would be in the library, wondering if Dream would allow him dinner that night. It strikes him suddenly that he will probably get to eat  _ every _ night now, as long as he can pay for the food. 

There is nothing he can do but lack money that would make someone take away any of his meals. It is a startling thought. He’d gotten used to it, being denied one meal or more for his behavior, for talking back, for not coming to Dream fast enough. 

Sometimes he was pretty sure that Dream just took away his meals because he could. To remind Ranboo that no matter how much he played by the rules, they weren’t what really controlled his life. Dream was. 

He doesn’t now though, Ranboo reminds himself as he steps up onto the deck. The wind blows in his face, salty and cool with seamist. It tingles against his skin, not quite painful, but a reminder of the curse all the same. 

The deck is much quieter now than it was earlier, so he hopes its alright that he’s up here. The captain doesn’t seem to be around. Unfortunately, Wilbur is. 

He’s watching Ranboo from his position at the helm, one hand casually resting on the great wheel. Ranboo looks away sharply, keeping himself from hunching over only through force of sheer will. He cannot show weakness, cannot show fear, cannot be interesting to this man in any way. 

He stands at the rail, watching the waves pass by, the ocean seems endless, here, like the entire world is nothing but waves and foam. He wonders what it would be like to be under those waves, to find the secrets hidden beneath them, to be free, entirely, from people. To go where no one has gone before. 

He can’t, though. Not with the curse. He doesn’t want to die, he is running in the first place because he wants to live. The sea will shelter him from Dream, but he has to leave it someday. 

Boots, behind him. Coming closer. Unfamiliar pace, not Punz, or Sapnap, or George. Definitely not Dream, who always paced across the floors with catlike silence. Ranboo blinks, he isn’t in the palace. None of those people are here. 

Wilbur braces his elbows on the railing beside him, his hair flops forward to cover his eyes, “lovely view,” he says, casual, so very casual. Ranboo doesn’t believe it. 

“Yeah.” 

“You ever been out to sea before?” 

“No.” 

Wilbur tilts his head, looking at him, “really? Lived on that island your whole life then?” 

Ranboo nods, wishing that this conversation could just end. Wilbur turns around, flicking his hair out of his face with a toss of his head. “I bet you know all the good spots on the island then.” 

Ranboo keeps the fear out of his expression, but he knows that he has just stepped into a trap. Damn it, not even a full day away from the palace and he’s already forgetting how the game is played. “I wasn’t really much of one for exploring,” he says. 

“Oh really?” Wilbur says, his weight shifts, leaning just a little bit closer, he thinks he’s got Ranboo cornered. Unfortunately for him, Ranboo has been playing this game for five years, and Dream is a far less forgiving opponent. “How did you spend your time then?” 

Ranboo forces himself to look out to the sea, to not watch Wilbur’s face, seeking any sign that his lie isn’t believed. “I was apprenticed to a cleric,” he says smoothly, easily. He will be able to fake this sort of knowledge with no trouble, he visited the cleric often enough to know their craft. It had come in handy when Dream hadn’t allowed them to see to him. “I spent most of my time studying.” 

“Really?” Wilbur asks, “good luck for us then, our cleric left port before last. You should have told Phil you have training, he’d probably have let you on for free.” 

“I’m only an apprentice,” Ranboo says, though his heart leaps to have Wilbur catch his misstep so easily, “it didn’t seem fair to barter my passage based on that. I don’t have the skills of a fully fledged cleric.” 

Wilbur nods, conceding that match to Ranboo. But that was only a battle, this is a war. “I suppose that explains your ‘life and death’ matter that calls you to El Rapids?” 

Ranboo very carefully doesn’t grit his teeth, though he wants to. Wilbur is watching him from the corner of his eye, both of them are standing as casually as possible, all part of the game. “I’m not going to El Rapids specifically,” he says, he sees the shape of Wilbur’s trap now. How neatly he’s maneuvered Ranboo into it.  _ Damn it. _

The captain has already guessed that he’s running from someone, or something. Wilbur clearly has spoken to his father about him, or else he wouldn’t know about Ranboo leaving as a matter of life and death. He can’t simply say that he is going to continue his apprenticeship. Nor can he say that he is visiting a sick patient, not when he’s just said he doesn’t have the skills of a true cleric. 

“There is an herb on the island,” he says, praying that Wilbur has no knowledge of medicinal herbs, “my master has sent me to retrieve it.” 

Wilbur hums again and Ranboo is left with the feeling that he has made a mistake, though he isn’t sure what it is, “well I hope you find it then, and return swiftly.” 

“Thank you.” 

Wilbur smiles at him, and Ranboo can almost believe that the calculating edge isn’t still in his eyes. “In the meantime, there will probably be a card game tonight if you want to play.” 

Gods the last thing Ranboo wants to do is play against Wilbur in two different games, “I’ll think about it,” he says, “thank you for the invitation.” 

“Of course,” Wilbur says, “now if you’ll excuse me, I’m afraid I am on duty.” 

Ranboo nods and doesn’t let himself slump gratefully. He wishes he could retreat belowdecks again, but he doesn’t dare. Not while Wilbur is still here, still watching. The conversation may be over, but the game continues on.

He only hopes that he can keep Wilbur in stalemate until they reach El Rapids, because he is sure that he won’t win. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for flashback and panic attack in this chapter fam.   
> check end notes for details.

He avoids Wilbur as best he can on a ship. Its a large vessel, but it is not large enough. Thankfully, Wilbur mostly stays on the top deck, outside of meals, he is some sort of navigator or second in command to the captain. Ranboo isn’t sure what his role really is and he doesn’t care to ask. Wilbur can do what he wants as long as it has nothing to do with Ranboo. 

Unfortunately, avoiding Wilbur means that he is a prime target for Tommy’s boredom. It isn’t bad, really, its almost fun in a way. Like another sort of game, a more harmless one than any other he’s played since Dream became his regent. 

Tommy tries to find something that will make him angry, or annoyed, or upset, and Ranboo finds a way to neatly sidestep it. Or at the very least, he goes straight through the thing with a smile on his face. 

Most of what Tommy does, Ranboo is pretty sure, is hand off his chores. Ranboo doesn’t really mind though, even outside of the game. Its nice to actually  _ do _ something, something that matters. And besides, he isn’t a prince anymore, he’ll need to learn how to work. He won’t be sitting around reading endless books once he gets off this ship. 

So he learns to tie ropes, learns to gut and clean fish, learns to repair clothing. Little skills that Dream kept from him along with the bigger ones. His hands blister, but he has worked through much more pain than this. 

Tommy takes it as a challenge, ramping up the distastefulness of the tasks. He even brings in a kid called Tubbo to try and come up with new ideas. Ranboo laughs to himself each time as Tommy grows more and more frustrated. 

“Alright,” he says about a week into the journey. “You think you’re such a smart guy?” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Ranboo says, utterly innocent. He allows himself a tiny smug smile, just to wind Tommy up a little more. 

Tommy growls, “if you  _ really _ want to learn about sailing, you have to learn about the rigging,” he says with a grin.

Ranboo’s smile drops off of his face immediately, but Tommy presses on. 

“Come on,” he says, tugging Ranboo’s sleeve, “we’re gonna go up to the crow’s nest.” 

“No,” Ranboo says, digging his heels into the wood. He’s taller than Tommy, but Tommy has more muscle. Tubbo pushes Ranboo from behind. 

“Come  _ on _ ,” Tommy says teasingly, “don’t tell me you’re scaaared.” 

Ranboo bites his tongue.  _ Show no weakness, show no weakness. If you’re weak you’ve already lost.  _ This isn’t the  _ real _ game though, not the dangerous one. He can afford it, surely. If it means avoiding going up there. 

They emerge out onto the deck, the sun is blinding, the waves crashing around them, too loud in his ears. “I am,” he says, but it must be lost under the sound, his voice is barely a whisper. “I am afraid. Tommy. Stop.” 

His hand scrabbles at Punz’s--no, its not Punz, its Tommy. They’re not up at the tower, they’re on the ship. “Stop,” he says, “please, stop.” 

Dream is waiting for him there, he’s so angry. Ranboo can see it in his stance, but his face is smiling, he’s always smiling. “Ranboo,” he says, disappointed, concerned. “What did you think you were doing? Don’t you know how dangerous it is out there?” 

Punz lets him go--no, Tommy does. Punz isn’t here. He’s miles away.--Ranboo can’t breathe, he pulls his hand to his chest. 

Dream is standing there, he’s so angry, but his voice is so kind. He wraps his arm around Ranboo’s shoulder, he’s so warm, his clothes so soft, like Eret’s had been. Dream’s cloak falls around him with a whisper of silk. 

“See everything out there?” he says, “that’s your kingdom, you’ll rule it one day.” 

But he won’t, he knows he won’t. Not as long as Dream is here. 

Dream forces him closer to the edge of the tower, the stone only comes up to his waist. He’s going to fall, Dream’s going to push him. He tries to dig his heels in but his shoes slide over polished stone. They’re at the edge of the tower, looking down at the green fields, the brown roads, the tan houses. Little more than lines and squares. 

“Are you paying attention?” Dream asks, his hand rests on the back of Ranboo’s neck. 

“Yes.” Ranboo breathes, as if speaking too loud will unbalance him. 

“Good.” Dream says, from the corner of his eye, Ranboo can see him smile. “A king does not go down among his people, he stays in his castle. Its safe, here. Anything could happen down there.” 

“Ranboo? Ranboo, come on, can you hear me?” 

That...isn’t Dream’s voice. Dream’s hand isn’t on him, pushing him towards his death. The wind whips around him, cold and salty but the sound of the waves is too close. There is a creaking groan, like wood, but the tower is stone. The tower is swaying. 

The tower is a ship. 

He’s on a ship. 

He’s on  _ the _ ship, the one he took to get away from Dream, he’s on the ship and the captain is kneeling in front of him. His eyes are watching Ranboo carefully, concern and compassion in his face. Over his shoulders, Ranboo can see Tubbo and Tommy lingering nearby, scared and awkward. Next to them is Wilbur, looking grim. He flinches. 

“Hey,” Phil says, drawing his attention, “you’re alright, you’re safe, mate. Can you nod if you can hear me?” 

Ranboo nods. He’s on his knees in the middle of the deck, his breath coming too fast, too sharp. His heart pounds in his ears. 

“That’s good,” Phil says, there is real warmth in his voice, like Ranboo hasn’t heard since Eret left. “Let’s try breathing, alright?” 

He is breathing, too fast, but he’s breathing. 

“Can I touch your hand?” Phil asks, and Ranboo finds himself nodding. Phil’s hand is warm and calloused, gentle around his wrist. He presses Ranboo’s hand to his chest, he can feel Phil’s heart beating under his palm. “Match my breathing, okay?” 

Phil counts his breaths, and his chest rises and falls, deep and even. Slowly, Ranboo manages to do the same. Phil smiles, “there you go,” he murmurs. “Feeling better now?” 

“I--yeah.” He looks around again, the rest of the crew is gone, but Phil, Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo are all clustered around him. On the deck, where he just made a fool of himself. 

He jerks his hand away from Phil’s. “Sorry. Sorry. I just--” He stumbles to his feet, nearly topples back to the deck. Phil reaches out to catch him but he avoids the hands like a skittish cat. 

Phil immediately pulls them away, raising them like he’s surrendering. “Alright,” he says, “You’re alright mate.” 

But he isn’t. He  _ isn’t _ because he’s just had one of the strange attacks in full view of everyone. He’s just showed them how weak he is. He’s just lost the game, irrevocably. Wilbur is still watching him, his hands on Tubbo and Tommy’s shoulders. Like he’s holding them back, like he’s protecting them from Ranboo. 

There is a terrible sort of knowledge in his eyes. He isn’t surprised, he was expecting this. He already knew. Ranboo strangles a helpless noise in his throat. He has to salvage this, somehow. He needs a lie. Just one good lie to explain it all away. To hide his weakness. To stand a chance at holding his own in this game. 

“My apologies,” he says stiffly, “I’m afraid that I have an illness that causes me difficulty breathing on occasion.” 

That was what Dream had said, anyway, and he had found nothing that contradicted him in the library. It was one of the many reasons that Ranboo wasn’t allowed out of the palace, in case one of the fits struck him. 

Along with the real reasons, of course. But that was the excuse Dream gave others. 

“Ranboo,” Phil says, his brow furrowed, “that didn’t really seem like a breathing fit, mate. That looked more like you were lost in battle memories.” 

“What?” HIs voice is too quiet, “I’ve never been in battle.” 

There is a terrible sort of sadness in Phil’s eyes, “how about you come to my cabin? We’ll get you some tea.” 

The last thing Ranboo wants to do is go back into the captain’s office. No, its the second to last thing, because Wilbur is still watching him. “Alright.” 

Phil smiles at him and slowly gets up, he doesn’t reach out to Ranboo, only gestures to the door to his cabin. “Will, you have the deck.” 

“Aye.” Wilbur says quietly. Ranboo’s shoulders twitch, but he keeps himself from flinching. 

Phil opens the door and lets him go in first, its just as tidy as last time he was here. Neat, but with a sort of lived-in air. There is what looks like Tommy’s coat on the table, and a book that he’s pretty sure he saw Wilbur reading. Ranboo wonders just what their relationship is to the captain, but he doesn’t care enough to ask. 

Phil sets up a kettle with fresh water over some hot coals in a little tin to heat the water and takes a seat. Not behind his desk, but at the table, a little coil of tension unwinds in Ranboo’s chest. 

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he says, “but if you do, I’m willing to listen.” 

Ranboo shrugs, looking anywhere but at Phil. 

“Did nobody ever tell you about battle memories?” 

“I--no. My...guardian told me that they were just because I was sick.I haven’t been in battle.” Unless you count his ‘training’ with Punz as battle. Or many of the other things that Dream had put him through. He needs to shut up. But he also needs to know this, know what Phil knows, how he got it to stop. Dream just left him to fight his way through it himself. 

Phil hums, there is something grim in his expression. “They aren’t just from battle, they happen when you’ve...been through some bad things,” he says, “Tommy and Tubbo said they were going to take you up into the rigging. I guess that something about that reminded you of a bad memory. You don’t have to tell me about it,” he interrupts before Ranboo can speak. 

Before Ranboo can lie. 

“I can teach you some ways to stop them on your own if you want,” Phil says. 

“I--yeah. Yes. Please.” 

Phil tells him, and they drink tea, and Ranboo breathes. Wilbur is still out there, waiting, so are Tommy and Tubbo. But for the first time since Eret left, he isn’t afraid to be in an office with a man who holds power over his life. 

*** 

Every night, someone plays the guitar. Soft strumming that filters down through the decks to where Ranboo lies awake in his hammock. He isn’t sure who plays, one of the crew, perhaps the night watchman, but he is grateful to them, whoever they are. They have lulled him to a nearly dreamless--and thus Dreamless--sleep every night of the voyage. 

They’re playing a sad sort of tune tonight, something slow and soft. Usually it might put him to sleep, but no matter how long he sits with his eyes closed, sleep won’t come. Tommy and Tubbo are snoring softly near him, the rest of the crew sleeping further away. 

With a sigh, he rolls out of the hammock and pads across the room. He hesitates just below the top deck. He should go back to bed. Just shut his eyes and try to sleep. He steps out onto the deck instead. 

For a moment the guitar stutters, and he looks up to find Wilbur staring at him. “Hey, can’t sleep?” 

He should have just gone to bed. 

“Yeah.” He can’t go back down now, he has to let this play out. Gods he doesn’t want to deal with this, with Wilbur’s too-intelligent eyes. Watching him get lost in the ‘battle memories’ knowing that there is something wrong with him. 

Only Wilbur isn’t watching him, not even out of the corner of his eye, he’s looking out to the sea, fingers idly strumming the guitar. “I couldn’t either,” he says, “just not a night for it I suppose.” 

His fingers pluck out another tune, not as sad as the last one. Ranboo sinks down on the deck by the rail, out of arm’s reach, but probably closer than he should be. Maybe he’s being a fool, but Wilbur doesn’t seem quite as intimidating here, in the dark with only the moon and the sea and the sound of the guitar. 

“I’ve got it too. The battle fatigue,” Wilbur says quietly. “It doesn’t mean that you’re weak, or broken, or anything. Its just something that happens.” 

Ranboo...doesn’t know why Wilbur would tell him this. It wouldn’t do him any good to  _ pretend _ to be weak to lower Ranboo’s guard. But there is no way he could be telling the truth, there is even  _ less _ point to doing that. 

He looks up to Wilbur’s face, profile illuminated by the light of the moon. There is soft sympathy in his expression. Real sympathy, not the false kind that Dream always had. He looks away. “Does it ever go away?” 

“It gets better, if you have people to help. You learn to manage it. But no, it doesn’t really go away, at least it hasn’t for me yet.” He smiles wryly, “I’ll let you know if I ever get rid of it.” 

Ranboo laughs softly, despite the hollow pit in his chest at the thought of having to live with this forever. “Thanks.” 

Wilbur hums and goes back to strumming the guitar, Ranboo is content to listen until the sun starts to peek over the horizon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ranboo has a flashback to a time when Dream took him up onto a tower and threatened to throw him off of it and has a panic attack as a result


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for a panic attack and Ranboo getting drugged by Wilbur in this chapter. See end notes for details

El Rapids is in sight a week later. Ranboo watches as it slowly gets bigger and bigger. First only a lump on the horizon, then it refines itself into an island full of people and buildings and trees. 

Things have been good, this past week. Wilbur seems to have lost interest in him after the night on the deck together. Or at least he isn’t quite so terrifying in his interest. The captain has been kind, Tubbo and Tommy have been good friends. 

He will miss them. 

But he can’t stay, he has to keep moving. He has to keep away from Dream, and he’s already said he was getting off at this port. So he gathers his meager belongings and prepares his goodbyes. 

Wilbur takes a small boat out ahead of them--When Ranboo asks why he says its to get clearance to enter the harbor. Ranboo didn’t know that was a thing that ships had to do, but then again, he doesn’t know much about ships beyond what he’s learned on this one. 

He isn’t expecting to see Wilbur until morning the next day when they dock, but he actually returns just as the sun is setting. There is something tense about him, something nervous. He barely acknowledges Tommy and Tubbo greeting him, just pulls Phil into the captain’s cabin and shuts the door firmly behind them. 

Tommy and Tubbo don’t seem too perturbed, so Ranboo tries not to let it bother him either. They’re trying to teach him cards, but Ranboo is pretty sure that they’re cheating. He laughs as Tommy somehow wins again, they’re only playing for sweets. He isn’t too bothered to lose. 

Wilbur eventually emerges from Phil’s cabin, looking tense still, but clearly trying to hide it. “What have we here,” he asks, “playing a game?” 

“We’re teaching Ranboo,” Tubbo says, “he’s never played.” 

Wilbur hums, sitting down between the boys on the deck, “and has he actually  _ learned _ how to play, or are you just taking all of his stuff?” 

“I--we would  _ never _ ,” Tommy says, acting as though he is utterly offended. 

Wilbur grabs his wrist and pulls a card out of his sleeve, “really?” 

“I don’t know how that got there,” Tommy grins. 

Tubbo collapses into a fit of giggles. 

“If you’ve got a moment,” Wilbur says, looking to Ranboo, “Phil wanted a word with you.” 

The words send an immediate bolt of fear through his heart. He has learned to dread those words, but Phil isn’t Dream, and Wilbur isn’t Punz. “Sure,” he says, setting his cards aside. “Not like I’m going to win.” 

Tommy and Tubbo snicker, scooping the pile of sweets towards themselves, immediately bickering over who gets what. Ranboo catches Wilbur rolling his eyes. He follows Wilbur into Phil’s office, finding the man standing at the porthole, clearly deep in thought. 

“Dad,” Wilbur says quietly, drawing his attention. 

“Oh, good, Ranboo.” Phil crosses the room to sit at his desk. “Why don’t you have a seat, mate?” 

Something about this is wrong, something is off. Wilbur is too tense, Phil is too thoughtful. He’s sitting at the desk instead of at the table. Ranboo swallows and lowers himself into a chair. It doesn’t escape his notice that Wilbur lingers at the doorway, the way Punz always did. 

“Will went down to the port this morning,” Phil says. 

“I know,” Ranboo replies, he shifts his weight, resisting the urge to get up. 

Phil sighs, “there isn’t really a gentle way to break this, is there?” he doesn’t seem to be asking Ranboo, or Wilbur so much as he is asking the air. Then he unfolds a piece of parchment and slides it across the desk to Ranboo. 

It is a letter, with the seal of Ranboo’s own kingdom imprinted on it. His heart stops even before he reads the words because he knows the hand that wrote them. Dream is looking for him, Ranboo knew he would but he didn’t think he would look like  _ this _ . 

He’s written a letter to the head of every island nation saying that Ranboo has gone missing. Offering a reward for his return, or even information that might lead to it. His heart pounds in his chest, blood rushes in his ears. 

“We know who you are,” Phil says, Ranboo nearly bolts from the office, but where would he go? What could he do? Throw himself into the sea? The curse would claim him before he ever got to land, even if it didn’t, everyone in El Rapids is probably looking for him already. 

“Ranboo,” Phil says stern and calm. “Breathe, look at me, listen to what I’m saying. We aren’t going to turn you back over to them. We thought you should know that they were looking for you. I don’t know what Dream did, but I know it was nothing good.” 

Ranboo takes a shuddering breath and holds it for a second before letting it out. He can’t fall to the battle memories now, he has to stay in the present, has to figure out what he’s going to  _ do _ . 

“I know you said you were going to get off here,” Phil says, “but I think it would be better if you stayed on board, at least until you get to L’manberg. They won’t turn you in, I know that for a fact.” 

There’s no way he could know that. He’s just trying to keep Ranboo here. 

“No.” Ranboo says, “I have to leave, I have to get off. I can’t--” 

“Ranboo,” Wilbur says behind him, he flinches, whirls to face him. “You’re not thinking clearly.” 

“I’m fine,” Ranboo says, he gets to his feet. “I--I don’t know who they’re talking about in that letter. It isn’t me. I’m just--I’m just a cleric’s apprentice. I’m not a prince.” 

“Ranboo,” Phil says, soft and sad. 

“I’m getting off this ship,” Ranboo says, “you can’t stop me. You can’t keep me here.” 

Phil presses his lips together. 

“You’re right,” Wilbur says, his voice pitched like he’s trying to calm a spooked horse. “We can’t, you’re free to leave when we dock.” 

“Will,” Phil says, but Will shoots a look at him. 

“I guess I was wrong,” he says, “I thought you were the prince but I see that I made a mistake.” 

He believes it, he believes the lie. But he can’t, not when Ranboo has been so bad at telling it. Ranboo takes a step away from them, but there is nowhere to go in the cabin. Nowhere to run. 

“Why don’t you have a drink,” Wilbur says, “to help you calm down.” 

“ _ Will _ ,” Phil says, more sharply, Ranboo flinches. 

Wilbur crosses the room in a few strides, pulling a couple of bottles from the cabinet. Ranboo doesn’t know what to do. Wilbur says he believes him but he clearly  _ doesn’t _ , Phil is standing now, between him and the door. He is trapped, he is nowhere near strong enough to fight them, even if he was, he can’t get away from them on this ship. 

They know who he is, they know what Dream is willing to give to get him back. He can’t run, he can’t hide. Even if he could get off this ship, there is nowhere in the world that would be safe for him. 

He doesn’t know what to  _ do _ . A whimper wants to rise up out of his throat but he doesn’t let it. Wilbur steps closer and he tries to back away, only to realize that he’s pressed himself into the wall. There is concern in Wilbur’s eyes, “just drink,” he says, soft and gentle, “it’ll help you calm down.Then you can go, alright?” 

Phil is visible over his shoulder, he looks conflicted, but he doesn’t argue anymore. 

Ranboo takes the cup that Wilbur offers him and drains it in one go, he coughs as he lowers it. There is a strange aftertaste to it, something sweet. 

“There you go,” Wilbur murmurs, he’s watching Ranboo carefully, like he’s waiting for something. 

Ranboo swallows again, licks his lips. The strange sweet aftertaste lingers on his tongue. 

“That’s better, isn’t it?” Wilbur says, almost coaxingly. “You don’t need to be afraid, Ranboo, we’re not going to hurt you, or take you back to him. I swear it.” 

Ranboo’s heart skips a beat at the mention of Dream, but there must be something terribly calming about Wilbur’s voice, because he is slumping against the wall instead of pressing himself into it. His breath comes easier, his heart doesn’t beat quite as fast. 

“He--” his voice is choked, “he said he was going to take me on a hunt. He was going to hunt me down. I was supposed to have three more years... ‘Don’t even want to be prince. He could have the crown if he wanted it.” 

“I know,” Wilbur murmurs, he steps closer, and Ranboo should maybe be afraid of that.

Ranboo probably shouldn’t have said all of that, now that he thinks on it. “Wait,” he says, “‘m just an ‘prentice. ‘M not a prince.” 

“Right,” Wilbur says, he takes the cup from Ranboo’s unresisting fingers. “Just a cleric’s apprentice, that’s all.” His voice is so soothing, so gentle. He’s so  _ nice _ . Ranboo didn’t realize how nice he was. 

“You’re r’ly nice,” he mutters. 

Wilbur smiles, there is something sad in it though. “Thanks. I try to be, when I can.” 

Phil shifts behind him, drawing Ranboo’s attention, “you’r’ly nice too,” he says. “ _ Really _ nice. Nobody’s every been as nice as you. Not since Eret got ‘xiled.” 

That makes him sad, he frowns, “I miss Eret.” 

“How much did you give him?” Phil asks, which doesn’t really make sense. Why would Wilbur have given Eret anything? Ranboo didn’t even know they knew each other. 

“Not much,” Wilbur replies, “just enough to put him to sleep.” 

Sleep actually sounds really nice, now that they mention it. 

“We’ll pull anchor then,” Phil says, “we’ll be out of here by dawn.” 

Oh, right, they’re at El Rapids, he has to go. He has to leave. Dream’s looking for him. Ranboo pushes away from the wall and the whole ship just goes so  _ weird _ under his feet. He staggers, “woah.” 

Wilbur’s hands catch him, “easy,” he says. “Take it easy.” 

“I gotta go,” Ranboo tells him. “Dream’s gonna--he’s gonna find me. I gotta go.” 

“No.” Wilbur says fiercely, “I won’t let him find you, none of us will.” 

“You’re safe, Ranboo,” Phil says. 

Its nice to hear, even though he doesn’t believe it. Nowhere is safe from Dream. Nowhere but L’manberg, or maybe even the Empire itself. Ranboo leans his head on Wilbur’s shoulder, its so heavy, his eyes are heavy too. 

“...tired,” he mutters. 

“I’m sure you are,” Wilbur replies, “you can go to sleep.” 

“Kay.” 

He closes his eyes, Wilbur carries him across the room and lays him down on a real bed. Dimly he realizes that it must be Phil’s bed. He opens his eyes again, or he tries, “Isn’t Phil gonna sleep here?” 

“Not tonight, mate,” Phil says, “I’m gonna be busy, its all yours.” A hand brushes through his hair, like Eret used to do, he leans into the touch. 

“Just sleep,” Wilbur says, “you’ll be okay.” 

Ranboo sleeps. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ranboo has a panic attack once he realizes that Phil and Wilbur know who he is and Wilbur decides that the best way to handle this is to drug Ranboo against his will.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because drugging someone is a temporary measure at best, Ranboo has another panic attack and passes out in this chapter

His mouth feels like something crawled into it and died. Ranboo tries to swallow around the cottony feeling but there is not a drop of moisture in his mouth. His head pounds, slowly he raises a hand to it. 

What the hell  _ happened? _ He hasn’t felt this bad since Punz volunteered to ‘train’ him. Training had been more of a beating, really. He doesn’t remember what he might have done to earn himself that treatment again. 

Only...he escaped. That’s right. His memories come slowly, like they’re trapped in molasses. 

“Oh,” someone says, “you’re up. Uh. One second.” 

Is that….Tubbo? He squints his eyes open but the light is blindingly bright. He groans, turning his face into the pillow. 

“I’m gonna get Phil,” Tubbo says, and then Ranboo can hear his feet crossing the floor--each step feels like a spike being driven into his head--and open and close the door. 

Phil was...the captain. Right. He’d wanted to see Ranboo last night for some reason. 

The door opens again, more footsteps. Gods do they have to  _ stomp? _

“Hey,” Phil says, “you look kind of rough there mate.” There is something almost hesitant in his voice. Why? “That stuff gives you the worst dry mouth, here, drink.” 

The rim of a cup is pressed to his lips--something that wants to be a memory nags at him but he is too busy drinking to care. The water is fresh and cool, its the best thing he’s tasted in his entire life. Phil tries to pull the cup away but Ranboo grabs his wrist, keeping it in place as he guzzles down all he can get. 

“Slowly,” Phil cautions him, “you’ll make yourself throw up.” He gently pries Ranboo’s fingers off his wrist and takes the cup away. 

Ranboo swallows, trying to ignore how his stomach turns, Phil might have been right. “What happen’d?” He manages to ask, his voice sounds terrible. He grimaces. 

“Well,” Phil says.

Ranboo opens his eyes, the water seems to be helping, already the light isn’t so blinding. He can make out the guilty expression on Phil’s face. 

The cabin door opens, “he’s awake?” Wilbur asks, and then it all comes rushing back. 

Wilbur returning too early, getting called to Phil’s office, the letter, the  _ drink _ . He bolts up, his head spins and aches but he ignores it. “You--!” he says. 

Phil backs away, hands raised as if in surrender, “Ranboo,” he begins, but Ranboo is in no mood to listen. 

He whirls on Wilbur, “you drugged me.” 

“I did.” Wilbur says, his hands tucked into his pockets. He’s got one eyebrow raised, like he’s silently asking  _ ‘and what about it?’  _

Ranboo flings the blankets off of himself and gets to his feet, he stumbles and staggers, bracing himself on the wall. He points a shaking finger at the both of them, “get away from me. I’m getting off this ship.” 

Phil opens his mouth, his face worried.

“Where are you gonna go?” Wilbur interrupts before Phil can get a word out. 

“The dock,” Ranboo snaps, “I’m getting off this ship.” 

“There is no dock,” Wilbur says. 

That makes no sense, they were just at the edge of the harbor yesterday. They should be docked by now. They have to be docked, otherwise he’s stuck here. Trapped with the men who drugged him.  _ Kidnapped _ him. 

“Will,” Phil says sternly. “Ranboo,” he gentles his voice, regret on his face. Like that makes this any better. They told him Dream was hunting him, cornered him in this room, they drugged him.

“I’m sorry we did that,” Phil says, interrupting his thoughts. “You were panicking, you were going to hurt yourself.” 

“No,” Ranboo says, his voice shakes, “I was going to leave. You--You kept me here. You--I don’t know what you want. I just want to leave. Just let me get off the ship. I can pay you, I have money.” 

Not as much money as Dream does, though. He was stupid to ever trust them, to ever like them. 

“We don’t need money, Ranboo,” Phil says, “we’re trying to help you. Dream has friends in El Rapids, we couldn’t let you get off there. He’d have found you.” 

“You don’t know that.” Ranboo says, “I’m not your problem anyway. Just let me go. Please,  _ please _ , just let me go.” 

“Ranboo you need to calm down,” Phil says. “We’re not going to hurt you, or hand you back to Dream. We should have tried to talk you down last night,” here he shoots a look at Wilbur, “but we’re talking now, alright?” 

He’s lying. He has to be lying. Why would they care what happens to Ranboo, why would they care if Dream gets him back? They just want him to be cooperative as they sail him to his doom. 

No, he escaped once, he can do it again. He can get out of here, he can do this, he’s going to do this. 

There is a letter opener. On the desk. Sitting there in plain sight. Wilbur and Phil are across the room. Surely he can get there first, turn it on them, make them open the door.Once he gets to the dock he can vanish in the crowd. They won’t be able to find him. 

“Ranboo,” Wilbur says, a warning in his voice. “You’re not thinking clearly.” 

“You  _ kidnapped _ me!” Ranboo snaps, “you drugged me. I’m not listening to anything you have to say.” 

He pushes himself off of the wall, lunging for the desk. From the corner of his eye, he can see Phil coming for him, but Wilbur holds him back. Ranboo catches himself on the desk, his fingers wrap around the letter opener. 

“I’m leaving,” he says, brandishing it at them. Neither one of them moves, Wilbur is still blank faced, standing calmly, casually, as though he has already won. Phil reaches an empty hand towards him, palm up, like he’s begging. 

Ranboo backs away from them both, feeling behind him for the door handle. Wilbur just came through it, he knows it isn’t locked. The handle turns easily under his hand, he has to shove a little bit to get the thing to open, the wood is old. Wilbur and Phil still haven’t moved, except for Phil lowering his hand. 

Ranboo spills out onto the deck and turns to see...nothing. No island, no dock. Just the sea, all around him. A cage once again. 

He spins desperately around, trying to find El Rapids, they were  _ right there _ in the harbor, just last night. Behind the ship, there is a lump on the horizon. 

“No.” 

He turns the other way, hoping against hope that he is wrong, that they didn’t do this. They can’t have done this. He can’t be trapped here. A presence looms behind him, a hand grasps his wrist and takes the letter opener. 

Ranboo darts away, too late. Wilbur is standing there, tucking the knife into his pocket. “I told you,” he says, there is something terribly gentle about his voice. “We aren’t in the harbor anymore. There’s nowhere for you to go.” 

“You can’t do this,” Ranboo says, his voice quiet and weak, “don’t do this. Please. Wilbur, please.” 

Wilbur sighs and the blankness falls away from his expression, he looks sad, and tired. “We’re not doing this to hurt you,” he says, “maybe I didn’t go about it the right way but it was the only way I could think of to keep you from bolting. I’ve met Dream, Ranboo, I know what he’s capable of. I wouldn’t hand my worst enemy back to him, much less an innocent kid. Much less an innocent kid that my brothers adore.” 

He takes a step closer, halting when Ranboo takes one back. He can’t believe him, he can’t afford to. He has to get off this ship. His eyes dart to the sea. It would be better than going back to Dream, quicker. 

“Ranboo don’t you dare.” Wilbur says, suddenly stern. “Ranboo look at me. I am not going to hurt you, I won’t let Dream hurt you, but I won’t let you hurt yourself either. Come back to the cabin, we can talk this out, okay? You can yell at me all you want. As  _ soon _ as we get to L’manberg you can get off this ship and never see us again.” 

Ranboo lunges, and Wilbur takes him to the deck, pinning him with the weight of his body. “ _ No! _ ” he cries, struggling fiercely, uselessly under Wilbur’s body. His heart is beating too loud, too fast in his ears. Its hard to breathe, he can’t breathe. Wilbur is crushing the air out of him, surely. 

Only Wilbur isn’t pinning him down anymore, he’s carrying him. Back to the cabin. Ranboo struggles weakly, but he still can’t breathe. The door shuts behind them, Phil appears in his peripheral vision. His voice is a low buzz against Ranboo’s ears. Wilbur sets him down and appears kneeling in front of him. 

He’s saying something, Ranboo can’t hear it, can’t understand it. Wilbur’s lips press together, his brow furrowing. He disappears and comes back with a cup. 

Ranboo shakes his head frantically, pushing himself across the floor away from it. Phil’s hand appears on Wilbur’s shoulder, he takes the cup. Ranboo’s knees curl up to his chest, arms wrapping around his head as if that has ever sheltered him. 

Phil taught him how to stop this, taught him how to get out of the battle memories. He tries to hold his breath, but his chest burns with the need for air after only a second. He squeezes his eyes shut, he feels lightheaded, but he can’t make himself take a deeper breath. 

*** 

He wakes up in Phil’s bed with the faint taste of something sweet on his lips. The world feels soft and distant, like he’s wrapped in blankets. 

Well, he is. He’s wrapped in Phil’s blankets, on his bed. But also metaphorical blankets. 

Phil is sitting beside him, watching him carefully. 

Ranboo groans in the back of his throat and turns away. 

“I know,” Phil says, “I’m sorry mate. You  _ passed out _ . Its just a little.” 

Ranboo glares determinedly at the wall. 

“Ranboo,” Phil says, then sighs when Ranboo still refuses to look at him. “I know you don’t believe me, but we’re not taking you to Dream. We’re the last people who would take you to Dream.” 

“Why  _ should _ I believe you?” Ranboo mutters, he doesn’t really mean to but the drug makes this slip out of his mouth too easily. “You know who I am, you know who he is. He won’t stop hunting me.” 

“Dream is powerful,” Phil says, “but he’s only a man. He has his limits.” 

“The only ones who could fight him would be the Antarctic Empire, and I doubt that they care.” 

“Yes, we do.” 

“What?” 

That. 

That doesn’t make sense. He’s hearing things. The drug is affecting him. 

He turns and sees Phil watching him with a dead serious expression. “Most people don’t know, and we don’t advertise it,” he says. 

“What the fuck.” 

Everyone knows about the Antarctic Empire, they showed up, conquered their way through half the islands, destroyed anyone who stood up to them, and then just stopped one day. They were a hermit nation, not speaking, not trading, certainly not traveling the world and picking up runaway princes. 

“You’re lying.” 

“I’m not,” Phil says. 

L’manberg. The Empire was a hermit nation aside from  _ L’manberg.  _ The Empire was a sleeping dragon, until the day L’manberg rebelled, then there had been Empire ships in the harbor by morning. Then they’d gone back to being quiet, aside from L’manberg. No one was even sure if L’manberg was counted in the Empire’s conquests. 

“You--” Ranboo stutters, he tries to sit up but his head spins. Phi’s hand steadies his shoulder, he draws in a shuddering breath. 

“Calm, Ranboo,” Phil reminds him. “You’re alright.” 

“Who are you?” He has to be someone high ranking if he’s so sure he can get the Empire on Ranboo’s side. Unless he’s just planning to help Ranboo hide there. Its not like Dream could search the Empire’s ports. 

Phil gives him a sympathetic smile. Oh gods. He’s some kind of lord or something isn’t he? 

“I’m the emperor. Well, one of them.” 

“No.” Ranboo says, he laughs, “you’re lying. You’re  _ lying _ .” He scoots back on the bed until he can lean on the wall. Its the only way he can sit up. 

The door opens and Tommy pokes his head in “hey dad-- oh.” 

He looks between Ranboo and Phil, “hey Ranboo.” 

“Did you need something, Tommy?” 

“Uh...I was just.” Tommy fiddles with the door handle, “nevermind.” 

“He’s doing okay,” Phil says gently, “it was sweet of you to come check on him.” 

Tommy rears back like Phil’s slapped him, “I  _ wasn’t _ \--I just wanted to see if he was still drooling on himself.” He slams the door shut. 

“He and Tubbo have been really worried about you,” Phil says, fondness in his tone. “Look, Ranboo, I know you’re scared, you don’t think you can trust us. Words won’t prove that to you, just, give us a chance, yeah? Let us prove ourselves.” 

Like he has a choice. They’re in the middle of nowhere. Even if he could get off this ship he’d go right back to Dream. 

“Once we get to L’manberg, you’re free to go and never talk to us again, alright?” 

_ If _ they go to L’manberg, and not back to Dream.  _ If _ Phil really is--somehow--one of the rulers of the Antarctic Empire, Ranboo might think about trusting him. 

But its a long way to L’manberg, and he bets that Phil--and definitely Wilbur--will have no problem with drugging him the entire way if he doesn’t cooperate. At least if he’s awake and aware he has a chance of escaping. 

“Alright.” 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright fam, this is it, last chapter. I hope everyone has enjoyed the story, it was a bit of a tough one to write and I'll admit I'm still not 100% happy with it but I've loved hearing you guys react to the things going on. 
> 
> I was hoping to have my next AU ready to start posting by tomorrow but I'm on chapter 11 and we're still trucking along on the story with that one so it might be awhile. I am *super* loving working on it though, I'm excited for you guys to see it. If people are interested, I might do some sneak peeks and such on my tumblr, I'll link that at the bottom as well as a bit of a bonus sneak peek of Vampire AU

Things go back to the way they were. Or they try to. Ranboo hangs out with Tommy and Tubbo, but there is a tension between then all now. Worse even than after his panic on the deck. There are no more secrets between them now. He knows that they are princes, and they know that he is a prisoner. 

The Empire appeared out of nowhere one day and swallowed L’manberg whole the very day it gained independence. They may not be out to conquer through force anymore, but Ranboo is sure that they won’t hesitate to take advantage of whatever opportunities land in their laps. 

A runaway prince is a very good opportunity. 

Ranboo has spent five years being a pawn, he knows how to see the layout of the chess board. 

Wilbur seems to be constantly in the corner of his eye. Phil at least, gives him space, but Wilbur is more present than ever. Leaning on the wheel when Ranboo goes above deck, loitering in the kitchen at mealtimes, wandering past while Ranboo does chores. 

He keeps playing the guitar at night, like he’s hoping to lure Ranboo up to him again. Ranboo just buries his head into the pillow and tries to sleep through it. Part of him wants to go up there, demand Wilbur tell him what he even  _ meant _ by saying that he wouldn’t betray him. 

Why would he not? Why would they not hand him over to Dream? They are the Empire, and the Empire wants power, near as anyone can figure. Ranboo is the perfect thing to get them control of Enderland. He is the crown prince, the rightful heir. 

Dream wanted to get rid of him to legitimize his claim, and now the Empire can bring him back to legitimize their own. It is a game of tug-o-war between gods, and Ranboo is the rope. 

He feels set to snap. 

Tommy and Tubbo try to keep him distracted, telling him stories of growing up, stories of the empire, playing games, playing tricks. Ranboo isn’t swayed by it. They have probably been told by Wilbur and their father to keep him happy, keep him from trying to escape. 

That’s fine. Ranboo can play that game too. 

He starts slow, fills the awkward silences, reaches out with stories of his own from when he was younger. When he had Eret. It pains him, but he stops looking out to sea for any sign of another ship, another island. He smiles more, he laughs, relaxes. 

He lets them think they’re winning. 

That is the way the game is played, that’s the way its always been played. Let Dream win, let Wilbur and Phil win, as long as he’s alive, he’s winning too. So Ranboo smiles, and he lives, and he wins. 

“You’ll love it,” Tommy tells him, “you’ll have your own room and everything. You can be right next to Tubbo and me!” 

“Yeah,” Ranboo says even though he doesn’t believe for a moment that there is a room in the palace waiting for him. Not a nice room, anyway. Perhaps a cell in the dungeon. 

They’re above decks, for now. Ranboo has perfected the art of looking out of the corner of his eye for any chance of escape. It makes Tommy and Tubbo nervous if he looks out at the water too intently. 

Tommy starts talking about the food, how he could have whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. They got all sorts of exotic foods from the ports of L’manberg. Ranboo will be surprised if he gets bread and water. 

Then he sees it. A smudge on the horizon. Not a ship, an  _ island _ . 

Ranboo smiles, and for the first time since they left El Rapids, its a real one. 

He tunes Tommy out as his mind races. Its far, but they’re not going to go near it. He’ll have to make his move tonight. Gather supplies, and steal the boat that Wilbur took down to El Rapids. It will probably be days of rowing, he’ll need to gather as much fresh water as he can. 

This could get him killed, he knows. Even if he doesn’t get pulled off course, even if he doesn’t die of dehydration or starvation, there is every chance that his little boat could be knocked over. He could fall into the sea and then the curse would swallow him whole. 

His other option is to go back to being a prisoner in another castle. 

Well, he’s always felt called to the sea

***

He slips out of bed in the middle of the night. Wilbur finished playing hours ago, he and everyone else are fast asleep. The ship is quiet around him, its almost peaceful as he pokes his head above deck. 

There is only the moon to witness his escape. He shoulders the bag more firmly, he can’t afford to lose it now. He creeps across the deck, the rowboat is tied off the side of the ship, it will be easy enough to lower it to the waves and climb down. 

He allows himself a small smile as he rounds the mast. Twice now people have tried to cage him, tried to kill him, and now twice he has escaped. 

“Hey Ranboo.” 

The smile dies. 

“Wilbur.” 

Wilbur is sitting casually on the railing before the boat, his hands empty, but Ranboo isn’t foolish enough to think that makes him harmless. His fingers clench around the strap of the bag. 

“It won’t end well,” Wilbur says, “I know where you’re planning to go. The Badlands won’t protect you from Dream.” 

He..didn’t even realize that  _ was _ the Badlands. Going past there would be taking the long way back to Enderland. That doesn’t make sense. 

Unless they’re actually going to L’manberg. 

No. He can’t let himself think that. 

“And you will?” Ranboo snorts, “the Badlands’ leader was friends with my parents.” 

“Years ago.” Wilbur says, “and now your parents are dead, and Dream is his neighbor. He’s always been ambitious, you know that.” 

Ranboo grits his teeth and looks away. 

Wilbur stands and crosses the deck. Ranboo doesn’t bother trying to back away. He’s been caught, he’s got no chance of escaping now. Wilbur’s hand rests on his shoulder, but its gentle, not squeezing, not grabbing, just resting there. 

He looks up to Wilbur’s face, but there isn’t any anger there. Only a strange softness. 

“Ranboo, do you know how I met Dream?” 

“I--I didn’t know you had.” 

Wilbur sighs and sits on the railing again, he looks tired, and Ranboo doesn’t think its just from the late hour. “I fought him,” he says, “The L’manberg rebellion? I  _ led  _ it, Ranboo.”

Ranboo stares, at this point he should just stop being surprised by the things that these people say. First Phil is an emperor, and now Wilbur is a revolutionary. And a king, he supposes. 

But…

“You fought Dream? But that would make him--He was king?” 

“He was,” Wilbur says, “and not a good one. I was his prisoner, at one point. He almost killed me, Ranboo. He did things to me that made me wish that he would. If Dad and Techno hadn’t come, I would have lost that revolution.” 

Ranboo’s heart has frozen in his chest, his breath frozen in his lungs. Wilbur meets his eyes, unflinching. He rolls up his sleeve and Ranboo can see the silvery scars wrapped around his wrists like he is forever wearing shackles. 

“I would  _ never _ return you to him. I would never let  _ anyone _ return you to him.  _ Ever.”  _

Ranboo swallows, his eyes burn, but he doesn’t blink away the tears. He can’t look away from the furious certainty in Wilbur’s eyes. Its the kind of simple, pure-hearted determination he hasn’t seen since Eret warned him of Dream in the first place. 

“You will never go back to him. I won’t let you,” Wilbur says, as if it is that easy. 

The bag falls from his shoulder. “I can’t--” he gasps, “I can’t just--” he can’t trust this, he  _ can’t _ . If this is a trick, a trap, he doesn’t know what he will do. If he puts his faith in Wilbur and Wilbur breaks it, it will shatter him. In a way that Dream never managed to do. 

“You can.” Wilbur says, he stands again, his hands on Ranboo’s shoulders. “I swear on my  _ life _ , Ranboo. I don’t expect you to trust me immediately, just try, alright?” 

“Alright.” Ranboo says, and this time he means it. “I’ll try.” 

**** 

There is a man waiting for them on L’manberg’s dock. He is  _ massive _ , taller than Ranboo, with the bulk to match it. He stares down at Ranboo with one eyebrow raised, then turns back to Phil. “You’ve got to stop showing up with more kids, man.” 

Phil laughs and strides forward to hug the man. Or really, to spread his arms at the man, Ranboo doesn’t think that Phil can actually wrap his arms around him. The man can hug Phil though, he seems to swallow him in his cloak. 

“Techno, Ranboo, Ranboo, Techno.” Phil says, gesturing between them. 

Oh.  _ Oh. _ This is Technoblade. 

He...probably should have guessed that. Ranboo fights to stay still, even though he really kind of wants to shuffle behind Will. 

“I’d guessed as much,” Techno says, his voice is a deep rumble, like rocks grinding against each other. “Dream sent us a lovely letter asking about him.” 

“Did he now?” Phil asks, there is an edge to his voice, something dangerous. 

Technoblade hums, “I figured you’d want to read it before I burnt the thing. In the future though, Phil? I’d appreciate it if  _ I _ knew about you adopting a kid before our enemies did.” 

“I’ll think about it.” 

They leave the docks together, all of them. Ranboo and the people who might be his new family. One day he will go back Enderland, to reclaim all that was taken from him, but he won’t go alone. 

He looks out to the sea, the thing that once caged him, the thing that set him free. Then he turns back to the others laughing and smiling and he joins them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Tumblr: https://technobladesbasement.tumblr.com/
> 
> Sneak Peek of Vampire AU: 
> 
> The Huntsman taps the side of the carriage twice and the driver clicks to the horses, the set off with the clatter of hooves. The Huntsman seems content to sit in utter silence for the trip, he’s writing something in a little book, a fancy fountain pen scratching against the paper.   
> “What’s your name?” Tommy asks him, because he’s never liked the silence.   
> The Huntsman pauses and looks up, his mask smiles eerily in the shadows of his hood--which Tommy realizes he never took off, even when he was inside. He stares silently until even Tommy is uncomfortable.   
> “Dream.”   
> “That’s a weird name.”   
> “That’s rude.” He turns back to his journal.   
> “Matron told you they never managed to teach me any manners.”   
> The mask looks up again, Tommy isn’t sure how painted eyes can manage to look menacing, but they do, “you’ll learn,” Dream says.


End file.
